Smile
by thisisironic
Summary: A small moment between Peter and Claire.


**Title: **Smile

**Author: **Emilie

**Fandom: **_Heroes_

**Pairing: **Peter/Claire

**Rating: **G

**Summary: **A small moment between Peter and Claire.

**Disclaimer: **These characters aren't mine, sadly. I'm making no profit from this.

**Author's Note:**

**---**

When the doorbell rang and Peter dragged himself out of bed, throwing on a shirt, he wasn't expecting whom he found on the other side. He rubbed a hand over his face and looked through the peephole again. "Claire?"

Looking over his shoulder to see the time on the microwave—just a few minutes till midnight—he unlocked the door and opened it.

"Hey."

Peter brushed his hair out of his eyes and cleared his throat. "Hey."

"I was just..." She made a small gesture with her hands but then crossed her arms over her stomach and anxiously switched her weight from one foot to the other. "I got bored."

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Peter repeated her words. "You got…bored?"

"Yeah, at the hotel. Hiro and his friend got me my own room and all that, but it gets kinda lonely after awhile. And it's sorta hard to make small talk considering Hiro doesn't speak English. I'd talk to his friend but he's…weird."

Peter nodded, "I get that."

"I went by Isaac's but you weren't there and…well, he's sweet and everythin' but…" Claire absently tugged at her sleeve, quietly ashamed. "My mom'd kill me if she knew I was hangin' out with a heroin addict."

"That's understandable." _Your dad already wants to pick at your brain, literally. I don't think you need your mom mad at you too._ "So…you're here."

Claire bit her lip and tipped her head in a small nod, sudden uncertainty painted across her features. After a moment, she finally decided to save face, taking a few steps back and moving to walk down the hall, "I was just droppin' by to say hey and all—"

Peter stepped out into the hall and pointed inside his apartment, "I have juice. Do you like juice?"

---

Inside the apartment, Peter carefully walked over to the kitchen table where Claire was seated and placed the two mugs gently down.

Claire examined one, "It looks like Lincoln."

"I don't even remember where I got it, but yeah, it does."

"There's this glass my mom kept back home, with the Batman faces on it from McDonald's. It's from _years_ ago but she went and kept it. It's weird, but I miss it."

"It's only weird depending on whose face was on the mug."

"I miss the kinda things I didn't think I'd miss. And not even the sorta things that I should've appreciated when they were around, either. The stupid, annoyin' sound of my mom's dog barkin'. My brother's video games. My mom yellin' that the waffles are ready even though I said I heard her the first twelve times…"

She took a tiny a sip of her juice. Peter did the same, looking down into his half-full mug and imagining the kind of life she was describing.

"What exactly are we tryin' to do here?" Claire asked just as she put her mug back down on the table, changing the subject. "All I've been hearin' about is tryin' to find all the 'others'. What're we gonna do when we find 'em?"

Peter looked up at her, their eyes meeting, and he sighed. "I don't really know."

"Does it have to do with the big boom?" A smile tugged at her lips when Peter practically did a double take. "Just because I'm seventeen doesn't mean I'm stupid. Or blind, for that matter. Kinda hard to miss the paintin' on the _floor_."

Pushing his hair out of his eyes, Peter shrugged. "I don't think you're stupid."

Her smile broadened, like the sun on a morning horizon, and she lifted the mug up for another sip.

"It's good to see you smiling."

Surprised, she swallowed the juice and quickly wiped her mouth with a napkin before looking back at him. "Guess I haven't had much to smile about lately."

"Yeah, none of us have. I'm just glad you still can." She was the one who'd been complimented but it was Peter who was blushing. "That _all_ of us can, I mean."

"Really?" She asked, catching him off guard. "I haven't seen you smile yet."

Peter pressed his thumbnail into the edge of the table, looking down at the mark he'd made until finally, he returned his gaze to meet her eyes. "I will."

"I'm sure you have a sweet smile."

Peter's cheeks burned redder and he could feel his lips turn upward despite himself.

Claire's blue eyes were like liquid pools as she looked at him then. It was a moment where Peter found it hard to believe she was only seventeen years old. "I was right."

The smile grew a little, "My brother was always the one with the winning smile."

That caught her attention in a way he wasn't sure was good. "You have a brother?"

After hesitating—wondering if he should change the subject off of talking about the brother he got to see whenever he wanted to when Claire would probably never see hers again—Peter replied at length. "Nathan…he's a politician."

Claire drank the last of her juice and quietly put down her mug, turning it for a moment before speaking up. "Older or younger?"

"Older." Peter's stomach did a flip when the thought lingered in his head for a second longer than he wanted. Nathan was older, but not much older than he was. Here he was sitting in his apartment past midnight with a seventeen-year-old girl. "He's got the wife, kids and money. All of that."

"And what do you have?" Her voice dropped to a whisper.

It wasn't intentional on her part, but with the way her voice was a ghost of a whisper and how her eyes were unrelenting in looking directly into his, how she could have such an honest glimmer in her eyes as she watched, waited for him to give the answer she wanted to hear…

It made Peter suddenly uneasy, especially paired with the odd feeling in his gut; something he didn't dare to interpret, not wanting to look that close. "I think you should go."

"What?" For a second she looked hurt but it passed quickly, an expression of resolve covering it up. She was used to using that face, Peter noticed.

"It's late, you need sleep."

"I'm not tired," she said simply. What she _wasn't_ saying was conveyed in her eyes, _Why are you kicking me out, Peter?_

Peter couldn't keep up the façade for much longer, relenting and giving her a plaintive look. "I don't really think your mom would like you hanging out with me either, that's all."

She offered a small smile, "Last time I checked you weren't a drug addict."

Standing up, Peter took her cup and his and put them in the sink before walking over to the door. "I'm not, I just…"

Claire stood up and walked over to the door as well, taking her coat before he could grab it and offer it to her. She didn't seem entirely put off, probably understanding where he was coming from, but it didn't keep Peter from feeling pangs of guilt in his gut as he opened the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Because my mom would _so _approve of me hangin' out with four older guys all at once."

She had a small, knowing smile on her face as she stepped outside and Peter realized what she was saying. Her mom wouldn't approve of _any_ of this; her deciding to come over to his place instead of staying at Isaac's was out of personal preference.

That didn't help in swallowing the ambiguous feeling he had any easier.

"Goodnight, Claire." His voice cracked on her name.

"Goodnight, Peter."

_finis_


End file.
